Force of Habit
by Parachutingkitten
Summary: A One Shot about my OC Whisper a week after being found by the rest of the elemental masters


I sat up in bed, unable to sleep. I felt uncomfortable. Everything around me was plush and cozy and warm… and none of it was right. My body tensed at the feeling of the cushions, it all felt fake to me. As if it were all a trap and at any moment bars would close around me, glass would consume me, and I would be locked away for another decade, of no use to anyone. Nothing.

There was nothing anyone needed me for. I wasn't tall, or strong, or wise. I didn't have unique powers to save the world, or training in an ancient magic. I just had blood. The only thing anyone ever wanted me for, was blood. Not even _my_ blood, the blood that happened to end up in my body.

I stood up, unable to relax, and entered the bathroom, switching on the light. I looked at my face in the mirror, heavy bags sitting under my eyes, and stray hairs poking out from my pigtails. I had forgotten to take them out. Force of habit, I guess. I had slept with my hair done many a night on Chen's island. If I slept dressed, it meant I didn't have to wake as early to get ready. Rest was a rarity on that island.

I pulled the ribbons from my hair, the bunches staying creased as I did. I brushed my fingers through them, breaking them as stray strands tickled the back of my neck. My body was tense. Quiet wasn't comforting to me, privacy wasn't comforting to me, comfort just wasn't comforting to me. On the island, rewards meant Chen was manipulating you into something worse than your current conditions. It meant he was going to transfer you, kill you or 'put you into storage'. It meant he was going to try a new serum, one that wasn't quite finished. He was going to observe the side effects. He was going to see how bad it hurt. It meant he needed more blood. More blood.

More blood.

My heart throbbed as a pulse emanated from my arm. My right arm. My eyes glanced down at my fingers as they ran over the scars sitting in the crook of my arm. The countless scars that sat there scared me. Some of them were small, and some of them had strange discoloration, but the one the scared me the most was about two inches long. I bit my tongue remembering the feeling as the needle was pulled from my arm, dragging through my flesh as it was hurriedly ripped from my skin. So much pressure was built up there. All the tension of the night was caught right under that scar, I could feel it, pulsing, swelling, aching.

I flipped off the light, and walked back to my bed, glancing around to look for anything that might help me relieve this pressure. My hands instinctively reached for the small cloth cinch sack that currently sat at the end of my bed. Force of habit, I guess. Up until a few weeks ago, it had held all of my personal possessions. For the longest time, it was the only thing to reach for when I was looking for something.

There was only one item in the bag that could help me now.

I reached in and grabbed the hilt of the dagger, removing it from the bag and observing it in the dim moonlight from the window. I smiled, remembering how Shade had helped me modify it from the much larger Anacondrai blade it had once been. I sat down on the bed, observing the shimmering purple. The idea seemed idiotic, but it at the same time, it made sense somehow. I held the dagger to my arm, my fingers twitching as I positioned it.

I was in control, right? So nothing could go wrong. It would be easy, probably even painless. Anacondrai blades. Sharpest weapons in Ninjago.

I pressed the blade to my skin, puncturing it. I don't know what I was expecting. A release of all the stress, as if it were some sort of puss I would drain from my skin. No, of course not. All I got was blood. More blood. It hurt of course, but somehow… it was comforting. The red stain trickling down my skin reminded me that I was needed. It was the reason people needed me. Blood. More blood. More. Blood.

MORE.

BLOOD.

The door creaked open as my eyes rose to find a figure standing there. Or rather, the lack of one. Only a pair of pale blue pajamas stood in the doorway. I couldn't see it, but I could guess Eli's expression.

"Whisper, are you okay?"

I looked at him, trying to understand how I had put myself in this situation. I glanced down at my arm, looking for an answer.

"I… I don't know."

He slowly entered the room, closing the door behind himself, and kneeled down in front of me. He removed the dagger from my hands, gently cradling them in his own.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" He whispered.

I shrugged as tears collapsed from my eyes.

"Force of habit, I guess."


End file.
